


Have You Ever Been In Love?

by FanaticeIllabantur



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Canon verse, Fluff, Love, M/M, Romance, Smut, that's about it to be honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:29:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6740395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanaticeIllabantur/pseuds/FanaticeIllabantur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hunt is full of pain, but it is not only pain if there is love. Mark Blackthorn has Kieran. Sure, he has his moods and sure, they don't always have their privacy, but Mark cares not. Kieran is his and he is Kieran's and that is all that matters to him. As well as strawberries. Mark also likes strawberries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Ever Been In Love?

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this is merely what I think would happen during the Hunt. I wrote this after 'Lady Midnight' came out so, if the other books that come out in turn make this incorrect, I do apologise but I wrote this with the resources and the knowledge that I had at the time. I don’t know how much of it is canon or how much of it is purely what I imagine about it all, but it is what it is. Kierark is killing me just as much, if not more than Malec. There’s not much angst because I want my babies to be happy. There’s enough angst in ‘Lady Midnight’.
> 
> I hope you enjoy x

> “Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up.”   
>  ― Neil Gaiman, _The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly One_

Life on the Hunt was gruelling. Perhaps that much is obvious but, for the most part, no one truly knows much about the Hunt at all. To most, it was a confusing herd of fey who ran across the sky in search of the dead, following their leader Gwyn. For the most part, they were right, but there was much more to it than that.

Time, in Faerie, was neither or nor there. There was no sure way to tell the time, only that the darkened sky full of bright lights was night. The days either passed slowly or quickly, sometimes it was hard to tell whether time was passing or not, and the sun never seemed to be where it was supposed to. Sometimes, the sun wasn’t even there.

To those who were not a part of the Hunt or part of Faerie, everything would seem too surreal. Mundanes, even Nephilim would not understand their ways. They would not understand the sights they saw, the things they did, the choices they made. Life, when it was served with the Hunt, was more different than any could comprehend.

Perhaps there is so much to explain it is not even worth it. Would anyone foreign to them understand how they rode in the sky? Would anyone who did not know the fey understand how they managed to ride across a thousand miles in a mere few minutes? Would anyone who thought they had no affiliations with the Courts understand why they feasted there and danced with the pretty fey girls and boys before forgetting their existence the next morning? No, they wouldn’t. So why bother explaining?

Faerie was not comparable to anything else. It was a world within its own, with its own rules. It had taken a while for Mark to come to understand them all and he still had much to learn. After growing up in the world of the Nephilim, having to adjust and learn the ways of Faerie was not a facile task. Even more so because he had been hated for being a half-breed. Most within the Hunt were full blooded fey, not half Nephilim like Mark, leaving him less favourable amongst the others.

Not that he cared. All he wanted to do was ride with his steed and the hounds like he was supposed to. It hadn’t come easy; realising he was going to have to be a Hunter and that he would never return to his brothers or sisters, but that was the way it was and Mark had to deal with it.

For years, well, for what seemed like years because time did not pass in Faerie like that, Mark had refused to give way to the Hunt. Desperately, he had wanted his Nephilim side to prevail, he did not want to succumb to the fey side within him. That, however, did not last. With the constant beatings and harsh words, it wasn’t easy to remain hopeful.

His new life did not allow for much hope. Most of it was pain and sorrow. Mark did not see much light in terms of the darkness that surrounded him. During his time at the beginning, Mark yearned for a warm bed and a good night’s sleep, for a friend or someone to love. The fey of the Hunt were not the kinds of people Mark wanted to love.

Except for Kieran. Mark’s beloved Kieran. He was the only light Mark had though many would not understand why. Despite having beauty, it was a cold one. There was an arrogance to Kieran which did not leave him even though he was ridiculed for his breeding. Kieran didn’t show if he was affected by their cruel words however, he carried on as normal, which Mark admired.

With one eye entirely black and the other a deep silver, there was no doubt that he was intimidating. Sure, it wasn’t the most intimidating combination for Mark had seen one fey with a scarlet eye and the other a sharp cyan that pierced his soul, but Kieran’s heterochromia was not one that showed much warmth. Kieran was still beautiful, no one could deny it, but a lot of people saw him as offish, as cold and unloving.

Those people did not know him. They only saw Kieran as the kind of person he was when his hair was as black as the depths of the sea. Never did they care to see Kieran as the kind of man he was when his hair was a gentle blue like the soft waves that brushed against the shore. Mark saw him as both and every shade he was in between. And he loved him.

He was sat behind him now, riding Windspear bareback with Mark’s own steed riding alongside them. The night was beginning and they were on their way to collect the dead for Gwyn knew someone, somewhere, was fighting someone else. Mark presumed Gwyn could feel it in his blood but he didn’t know for sure.

Mark, however, was not focusing on their destination. Sure, they were riding fast, pummelling through lands that seemed to rise and disappear within a blink of an eye and mountains rose where a grand forest lay a mere moment ago, but Mark’s attention could always be drawn to something else; to Kieran.

Currently, his hair was the colour of the sea in the midst of a tempest. To those who did not know him like Mark did, they would think he was in a foul mood, but that was a different sort of navy. The differences were slight but Mark knew them well. His current shade meant he was feeling the forces of battle, that the adrenaline was pumping through his system.

The galloping of hooves resonated through Mark’s body as he rode in sync with Kieran and Windspear. Mark was gripping Kieran at his waist, not hard but sturdy enough to keep him from falling. Kieran’s body was warm, they breathed as one, not only to smooth out their riding, but also because that was what they did. Their hearts beat as one and their breathing followed suit.

Gwyn blew his horn again, signalling that they were fast approaching their destination. Somehow, everyone sped up and Mark gripped at Kieran tighter. He could feel Kieran’s heart, pounding against his chest, his body getting hotter. A part of Mark wanted to bury his face into Kieran’s neck, to kiss him and touch him but they were in the midst of the Hunt and it would have been ridiculous to do such a thing.

They had promised themselves to each other a while back, swearing a troth. It claimed they were each other’s and that their hearts belonged to each other and no one else. Back with Nephilim, such troths did not exist, they were almost mocked in fact, but Mark understood their purpose now.

Perhaps that’s because it was in his blood, perhaps the fey part of him made him understand their significance, but Mark didn’t really know. There was a large chance that it was because it was Kieran he had sworn himself to, but Mark did not care for the logistics of it.

They had been intimate together before they had sworn themselves to each other for that wasn’t the nature of their promise. Few promises were of the body, but Mark wasn’t going to go into all the details. Even now, he didn’t understand them all that well. All he knew and all he cared about was his love for Kieran and how, now that he had promised him his heart and his love, he could look at no one else the way he looked at Kieran.

Even if he hadn’t sworn himself to him, he wouldn’t look at anyone else. No one filled his heart with warmth like Kieran did. Mark had never expected to be so in love, especially after he was taken away to the Hunt, and yet here he was, in love with the Hunter that was directing their horse.

They had reached the battlefield and Mark almost wished there were people there to fight. It wasn’t as if his nature was cruel, he didn’t like to think the fey side of him was in control, it was simply that he liked fighting by Kieran’s side. When they moved as one, fought alongside each other, and knew what the other was thinking without anyone having to say a word, Mark felt even more connected to him than he already was.

Unfortunately, there was no one left to fight. Dead bodies littered the ground and, whilst once Mark would have been shocked by it all, he now felt indifferent. It was a shame, Mark knew he should care because these were all individuals with lives and homes and families, but, when you were over exposed to something, you stopped feeling about it.

Gwyn and the others started collecting the dead whilst Mark and Kieran held back. Kieran cantered around and halted his steed a little way away from the others who had dismounted and were surveying the sea of the dead with care. Parts of the grass beneath their feet had been stained red and there were dismantled body parts lying here and there. It was not a pleasant sight but that was war after all.

After Kieran dismounted Windspear, he held his hand out for Mark to follow him afterwards. Mark landed on the earth softly, the fey way making him light and soundless. He was barefoot, as they all were, and he could feel the grass between his toes. Where Kieran had settled them, thankfully, nothing had spread, so there was no guilt in his heart that he was standing on the split blood of the dead.

Windspear and Mark’s steed led themselves down. Despite the fact they were horses of Faerie, they still got tired, as they all did. Mark could feel it set in his bones, the ache of fatigue. Gwyn, whilst on the kinder side, was still the leader of the Hunt and they had to persevere in spite of their exhaustion.

In a slight and gentle movement, Kieran leaned against Mark’s chest, taking a comfort from his solid form. As Mark placed his hand on Kieran’s hip, feeling his warm skin beneath the thin tunic he wore, he noticed his hair had turned to a lighter shade of blue, the calm azure after the tempest had passed, leaving the waves gently blowing across the sea. Mark pulled him closer and pressed his lips to the top of his head.

“Will we rest here tonight?” Mark asked as he watched Gwyn kneel down and begin talking to one of the dead bodies.

“I do not know, my love.” Kieran answered. “I would prefer it, I can feel my shoulders beginning to plague me.”

“I can ride tomorrow.” Mark offered.

“If you so wish.” Kieran flashed a small smile to Mark, the ends of his hair flicking to a sky blue before it faded again.

Mark loved watching Kieran’s hair change colour. It was something so intriguing to him, so incredibly unique. Never had Mark seen something as interesting as his hair and it never seemed to be the same colour, there was always a hint of something else. Mark loved it even though it had been perplexing initially.

After the first few days, Mark had gotten used to the heterochromia too. It was always strange to see such a stark difference, but Mark had grown accustom to it.

Now, Mark loved both of his eyes. The black eye was beautifully dark, full of the light of the stars reflecting in it. Even the night sky did not look as stunning as Kieran’s eye, in Mark’s opinion. It was deep, and profound, and starkly beautiful.

Then there was his silver eye, lighter than his noir one. It was a deep shade of silver but it glimmered nonetheless. Mark could compare it to a thousand things, the stars in the night sky, or the platinum steeds that traversed the earth, or the Silver Sea of the Fey, but nothing truly spoke about the beauty Mark saw within it. There was nothing Mark could compare it to other than Kieran. They were Kieran’s eyes and they were perfection to him.

And to Mark, that wasn’t even an overstatement. Over his time in Faerie, Mark had familiarised himself with not telling lies and taking things in their very literal sense. It had bothered him in the beginning, the people he had surrounded himself with always talking literally, but then he had figured out how much easier it was to talk in truths rather than tell lies.

Kieran had helped him a lot with that. Being a ‘true’ fey, Kieran never spoke in lies and always took things in their most genuine sense. Mark had struggled with it, but with Kieran lying next to him every night, he had found it a rather basic task. Why lie when the truth was right there?

Perhaps a lie would make people feel better in the short term, but take the long term into account and it would always be better to tell the truth. Mark had figured that out because of Kieran for the most part. Kieran told him he loved him and it was the truth for there was no way for Kieran to lie about such things. That was one of the best feelings Mark knew, knowing he was being loved truly.

A little while later, Gwyn told them they would be remaining there for the rest of the night. They had gathered a fair few of the dead, both for riding alongside them and to serve them, and Gwyn was satisfied. As was their way, Mark and Kieran settled themselves as far away from the main body of Hunters as they were allowed.

It wasn’t because the rest of them would judge upon their relationship. Considering these were the people the most of them would spend the rest of their lives with, a lot of them took up relationships. Whether it was of the body or of the heart or both, many of them did it because it was in their best interest and because they fell in love. Mark knew they would not judge the two of them for it.

They separated themselves from the group because they liked their privacy. They liked being able to kiss and make love with a safer knowledge that they weren’t being watched. Sometimes, when they couldn’t get away, they just had to be quiet because they knew they couldn’t restrain themselves from each other. For that reason, it was always preferable for them to get away.

There was a small forest many of the Hunters had settled themselves in. Kieran and Mark found a sheltered area, away from the others, and set themselves up for the night. The nights were never warm, not ever. The Hunters didn’t have enough clothing or blankets for the nights, so having a warm body to curl up next to was always better. Mark had that.

The second the two of them led down underneath both of their blankets, their heat radiating off each other in the most perfect fashion, they set their lips upon each other. Mark didn’t know what it was inside him that made him feel as though Kieran was as irresistible as he was, but he wasn’t complaining.

Their lips were hot and desperate, their breathing fast. Kieran had slipped his hands up Mark’s shirt, gripping at the warm skin underneath with desperation. They had learned to be quiet during their time together but sometimes neither of them could help but make noise, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Having a love for Kieran’s hair, Mark set his hands there, entwining his fingers with the thick locks that had turned a deep zaffre with streaks of celeste, like the middle of the ocean that was hot with the sun set upon it. He couldn’t help but pull at it slightly, making Kieran moan throatily into his mouth.

Kieran pulled at the thin muscle that set upon Mark’s hips, pulling him on top of his body. They had tangled the blankets between them, getting them caught up between their legs but the frost of the oncoming night bothered them not. Their bodies were hot, full of passion. The cold night air was not on their minds at all.

Their tongues met and their kiss turned sloppy. Mark had placed his legs between Kieran’s and he could feel him thrusting his hips up to get friction from his thigh. When Kieran kissed him, typically, there was a ferocity behind him, a level of passion that he could not contain. To some, it would be off putting, but not to Mark.

He loved the way Kieran nipped at his lips and tugged at them when he had one between his teeth. He loved it when Kieran pressed his hot mouth along his jaw and down to his neck where he started sucking and biting. He loved the feel of his teeth grazing over his collarbone and hips when they had stripped down. He loved Kieran and his passion was a part of that love.

Kieran was sucking at his neck now, using his teeth to bite at the sensitive skin at the base of his throat. Mark released a moan that was probably too loud but he couldn’t help it. He could feel his blood coursing through his body, rushing down to his cock and filling his length.

“You must be quiet, my love.” Kieran mumbled against his throat, his words vibrating through Mark’s body.

“It is not always possible.” Mark said, looking into Kieran’s eyes as he drew back from his neck.

The pupil of his silver eye was engulfing the colour, filling his eyes with lust. Their chests were colliding and Mark could see himself in Kieran’s eyes, his own pupils consuming the blue and the gold. Mark look dishevelled, his long, blonde hair askew and his shirt ruffled.

Kieran didn’t seem to mind, his grin was showing his fey side, its wickedness detectable. It made Mark quiver. Mark couldn’t help but grin back as Kieran leaned up to bring their lips together again. They crashed together, a mess of lips, teeth, and tongue.

Despite the chill of the night air, Mark pressed his hands underneath Kieran’s tunic, pushing it up and over Kieran’s head. He met no protests. Knowing they would have to dress afterwards, Mark placed the top to their left, trying to keep it neat even as Kieran attached himself to Mark’s neck again, nipping at the skin.

Kieran’s body lacked any form of hair. Sometimes Mark was curious as to what colour it would have been if his chest was dappled with it. It amused Mark to think his entire body hair would change colour as the hair on his head did, but he did not think Kieran would find the image as humorous.

Faeries, by nature, were hairless across their body. When they hit a certain age, some would start to grow facial hair, but it was all very confusing because the fey of the Courts and the fey of the Hunt were ageless or immortal. Mark, however, was not focusing on that because he was looking at Kieran’s body and he cared not for the logistics of the fey at this point.

There were certain curves and lines to Kieran’s body. He was not particularly muscled, as none of them were, but he was still beautiful. There were scars across his chest and abdomen, deep and dark lines covering the pale skin but it just made him more intriguing. He had prominent hips that drove Mark’s mind wild and he ran his hands across them, making Kieran shiver.

The image of Kieran’s body had been engrained into his thoughts for he had seen it so often. When they washed, when they made love, Mark had seen his body countlessly but, every single time, he fell in love with it and with him.

In a swift movement, Kieran rolled himself on top of Mark, setting his knees either side of his hips. His hair was a wave of shades, a complete mess of blues that meant he was overcome with all sorts of wishes and wants. Mark, even though he wasn’t egotistical, thought that most of those wants concerned him.

Kieran pulled Mark’s shirt off over him and threw it aside before leaning down and pressing open mouthed kisses down his chest and stomach. His mouth was hot and wet and it made Mark’s skin pulse, sending sparks flying through him.

He could feel his erection pressing against his breeches and he yearned for Kieran to touch him or to rub or to do anything. He wanted Kieran’s warm and loving hands to rub his solid length.

Mark watched him lick his lips as he sat himself up. Pressing their mouths together, Kieran let his passion consume him, making their tongues meet in quick sessions heated by the fire of their love. Mark was sure they were making too much noise but he couldn’t care less. His Kieran was making love to him, that was all he cared about.

Wrapping his hands behind Kieran’s neck, he kept their bodies close. Their bare skin brushed against each other making their nipples hard. Mark could feel his clothed cock rub about Kieran’s, sending a wave of pleasure through him. There was a certain tightening in his stomach that Mark had come to associate with Kieran and only Kieran.

Kieran undid his own breeches in a quick motion and pulled them off his legs. The Hunters had no use for underwear of any sorts, so he revealed himself in this act. Mark had seen his fair and naked body many times but he never grew tired of it.

His cock was long and curved and Mark could feel himself twitch in anticipation. He wanted to taste Kieran’s cock, knowing it was sweet and delicious, one of Mark’s favourite tastes. Mark’s tongue knew the curve of Kieran’s cock and he could taste him even now, without having to come in contact with him.

Kieran ran his hand up and down his own length a few times, making Mark pulse as he awaited his lover eagerly. They made eye contact, Mark’s mouth opening so he could breathe properly again. Once seeing him, Kieran grinned and brought their mouths together, still pumping his own length.

Knowing Kieran was in control, Mark did nothing to stop him. After promising himself to Kieran, Mark had placed his trust in him and it meant he had to let him lead when it was his turn to. Right now, even though Mark had such a desire to reach his hands out and pump his lover’s length, he did not. Kieran knew what he was doing, even if Mark was his first lover.

Before Mark even had time to realise Kieran had removed his breeches too, Kieran was back on his lips. Mark could taste blood but he did not know if it was his or Kieran’s. Kieran either did not notice or he did not care for he carried on, pressing his tongue against Mark’s and moaning against him.

Kieran had wrapped his slender hand around Mark’s length and was rubbing him slowly and gently. Mark wanted more. He knew Kieran loved with force and that he was being slow because he knew Mark expected more. Mark thrust himself up and Kieran drew back and shook his head.

Mark knew not to disobey. Instead, he pressed their mouths together, hoping Kieran would speed up and touch him with the fire Mark knew he had. Again, Kieran took Mark’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, forcing a whimper from the back of his throat.

Kieran’s grin turned wolfish as he withdrew from Mark and began pumping his hand faster. Mark could feel his bones giving out as the blood filled him up. His cock was aching, yearning for Kieran to do more. In his stomach, Mark could feel himself tightening, the sensation of the slight friction he was being given making his body go weak.

Using his thumb to wipe away Mark’s precum, Kieran then ran his tongue across it before spitting on his hand. He ran his hand up and down his own gorgeous cock repeatedly and Mark whimpered over and over again, begging him to go faster.

Kieran hushed him with a deep voice, making him want to whimper even more, but he stayed quiet. It made Kieran grin at him which, in turn, made Mark bite his lip hard enough to pierce the skin.

Slowly, he pressed the head of his cock into Mark’s opening. He hissed into the contact but he had been in the situation enough times to know it, to know the feeling of Kieran’s cock. A wave of pleasure washed over his body as Mark tensed enough to feel Kieran throb inside him.

Easing themselves in a rhythm, Mark tried to keep the moans within his throat but Kieran could get them out for he knew Mark’s body and what he liked. He massaged the sweet spot within him that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through his body. Neither Mark nor Kieran knew what it was or why it was the way it was, but they knew it felt glorious and Kieran knew when to gently play the head of his cock to it.

Their rhythm was slow, quite the contrast to their kisses before. They maintained eye contact which was something the fey were passionate about. Whilst they could have sex in other positions, making love was when one looked deep into their lover's eyes as they pleasured them. This was making love.

The pulsing feeling from Kieran’s cock inside him, the throbbing of his own cock as it rubbed against Kieran’s stomach, leaving a trail of precum across it, that was the kind of making love Mark knew. He knew the feel of Kieran and the sensations Kieran gave him. Mark also knew the feel of Kieran’s firm and round ass beneath his hands as he gripped at the muscle.

When Mark grabbed his ass, Kieran sped up. The sound of skin slapping into skin ran through Mark’s ears and he gripped hard, his head burying deep into the ground beneath him. The stars were framing Kieran above him but Mark couldn’t help but concentrate on the throb of his own cock against Kieran’s body.

Sensing Kieran was working himself up to when it became an arrhythmic and crazed mess of thrusting and panting, Mark brought his own hand to his cock and began to pump out of time with Kieran’s movements inside him. It sent waves rushing through him, tightening and untightening in his stomach.

Biting his lip to stop himself from moaning, Kieran then brought his forehead down to Mark’s, pressing them together. His thrusting was losing its regularity. Mark could feel Kieran losing his composure. It was unusual for him, but not in this situation, not when he was expressing himself the way he was by making love to his Mark.

Even though Mark desired to bring his lips to Kieran’s, he could not. His breathing was too heavy, his entire focus now placed on his coming orgasm. They breathed hotly over each other, their chest colliding in fits of pleasure. Mark’s stomach was tight, desperate for Kieran to press himself against the sweetest spot in his person. Their eyes were closing and opening in intervals, connecting for only moments before they had to close them again. Mark was still biting his lip but he couldn’t stop the moans that were coming from his throat.

Kieran was going faster, Mark pumping himself until the throbbing was reaching an ultimate point, pulsing through his body. Kieran was saying Mark’s name quietly, making Mark whimper against him. Mark was gripping Kieran’s skin hard, almost hard enough to bruise but he would never hurt Kieran like that.

With a few more thrusts inside him, massaging his sweet spot again, Mark came, unable to control himself. His body was jerking, pulsing uncontrollably and his come covered his stomach in hot loads. As Kieran removed himself from Mark, he continued to pump his cock furiously until he came over Mark’s stomach, mixing their semen.

Kieran hunched himself over, his breather erratic and his body shaking. Mark reached a hand up to cup his cheek and Kieran kissed his palm a few times, smiling down at him. His hair was fading to a baby blue, a calmer sense of the ocean coming over him.

After wiping his stomach with his hand and trying to get rid of their come to the best of his ability with Kieran helping him, the two of them redressed. Mark was exhausted and Kieran chuckled lightly at him as he struggled to redo his breeches’ tie, so he helped him with it.

Once again, they settled down underneath the blankets, rearranging themselves so Mark lay behind Kieran with his arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close into his body. The stars had come out, no longer blocked by the clouds the Hunt brought along with them. The trees were obscuring them, but Mark could make out a few, winking at him from their heights.

Kieran was holding Mark’s hand with both of his own, gently massaging his fingers over his skin. It was soft and loving, and it was during these times that Mark felt closest to him. This was when he was most vulnerable, Mark assumed, when he was lying with his back towards Mark. Softly, Mark pressed his lips to Kieran’s neck and he could feel Kieran shiver against him.

“I love you.” Kieran said quietly.

Mark smiled to himself. “And I love you.”

They paused, their breathing much calmer than it had been a few moments ago, giving Mark time to think about his beloved Kieran. He had learnt a lot about him over their time together but he always liked learning more. He wanted to know Kieran and everything there was to him.

“Have you ever been in love before?” Mark asked. He knew love was something that required a troth, something the fair folk did not do easily, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be in love before they admitted it. Mark didn’t know the rules all too well, but Kieran had told him a lot about them. He wanted to know more, he just didn’t want to push his boundaries.

“It is not as base as that.” Kieran answered.

“But have you?” Mark pressed.

“I am younger than you, and you have never been in love. Why would you believe it possible for me to love before you?” Kieran asked, there was no anger in his voice, just curiosity.

“I merely pondered. You have told me the tales of the Courts and your father, I wondered if there was someone you may have left behind.”

“There is no one. I am alone with you.” Kieran said and there was a hint of sadness in his voice. It hurt Mark’s heart.

“I am yours Kieran, and you are mine.” Mark said. That had been part of their promise to each other. They repeated it whenever they needed to or whenever they felt like the other needed to hear it. Right now was one of those times.

“And I am yours and you are mine.” Kieran said and he shuffled back, pressing himself further into Mark’s body.

The curve of his body aligned perfectly with Mark, their breathing aligning too. He was warm, the heat of their love still running through his blood. It was in Mark’s body as well, he could feel it within him. Every time he looked at Kieran or felt him, his heart beat faster, his blood keeping up with its pace. That was love to Mark for it was the only love he knew. Despite being so inexperienced, he knew his love for Kieran was special. He knew Kieran was special.

Kieran’s hair had settled now, to a peaceful ocean, the azure of tranquil water. Kieran had told him is hair was the way it was because of his mother who was a water faerie. Despite having faerie blood himself, Mark still didn’t know the ways of the fey or the types either. He knew Kieran and the Hunt, and that was about as much as he understood.

“I love your hair.” Mark mumbled against Kieran’s shoulder.

“That much is evident to me,” Kieran said, “For you always seem intent to grab it.”

Mark laughed lightly and kissed Kieran’s warm neck. “Sometimes, I covet something special like it.”

When Mark looked at the other Hunters, at the other fey, he always felt lacklustre in comparison. It wasn’t as though he needed something to feel special, he didn’t want to stand out amongst the crowd, he merely wanted to feel a little different.

Sure, he had his heterochromia, but so did all of the others, and his difference wasn’t all that shocking. He had his fey ears, but that wasn’t exactly out of place where he was. He had fair hair, pale skin but that was the fey way. His difference was the Runes, but they weren’t special, they were ugly and Mark hated them.

Kieran’s hair flicked to a fierce Persian blue, the tide roaring up before it crashed upon the shore, as he rounded his head to face Mark. His brow was furrowed, his dark eyes darker with concern and an almost anger. “Why would you say such things?”

Faeries took everything literally. What Kieran had heard was not what Mark had intended; Mark had merely meant he didn’t feel like there was anything about him that was intriguing, not the way Kieran was; Kieran had heard that Mark didn’t think he was special in any way, that he thought he was nothing.

“You are special to me. Do you not know it?” Kieran asked, his voice sounded harsh but it wasn’t, it was etched with vulnerability and worry.

“No, of course I know do.” Mark reassured. He looked into his bicoloured eyes, trying to tell him that he was not doubting himself or anything of that ilk. He could see Kieran’s eyes searching his own but he wasn’t sure if he was finding the answer. “I was merely saying, when I see you, I see your hair and your beauteous eyes, and I see nothing of that with me.”

“You are beautiful.” Kieran said. “There is nothing about you that is not beautiful.”

“Beautiful does not equate to special.” Mark said and he smiled at Kieran who just furthered his brow furrowing. Sometimes talking to fey was difficult but Mark never minded putting the effort in for Kieran.

Kieran reached a hand up and cupped Mark’s cheek, his thumb brushing against his cheekbone. “You are both to me.”

Mark smiled at him and pressed their lips together tenderly. For a moment, Kieran hesitated, but then he let himself go. He melted into Mark, turning himself around to wrap his arms around his waist and keep him close. Mark, just as Kieran knew he would, let one of his hands travel up to his hair and immersed it within the locks.

Their kiss was rehearsed, one they had done many times to reassure each other and demonstrate their love to one another. Their breath was warm, dappling over each other’s skin. Mark could feel his bones giving way, kissing Kieran being one of his favourite things.

It was practiced and clean and perfect. Kieran was pulling him close, their bodies connecting. His hands were hot against him, sliding underneath his shirt and holding his warm, pale skin. When they pulled away, neither removed their hands from each other.

Kieran smiled and Mark smiled back before Kieran rested his head against Mark’s shoulder. Once he shifted himself so he lay on his back, Mark entwined his legs with Kieran’s and wrapped his arms around him. He could see the stars through the leaves that blew against no wind in the sky, for that was their peculiar nature in this region of Faerie.

Once upon a time, he would have counted his siblings’ names amongst the winking stars. However, that was before he had Kieran to comfort him. He had long forgotten to count their names because Kieran was there to make him happy. He merely hoped, before he slipped off to sleep, that they were happy without him.

The next morning, from the get go, Mark could see Kieran was in the foulest of moods. His hair was black, and not just black as the depths of the ocean, but as black as its lowest point, the farthest one could go. Sometimes Kieran woke up in a bad mood for no reason, it was just the way he was.

He did not bid Mark a good morning, instead he got up and removed his blanket from Mark without a word. His dark eyes showed no light and there was a deep crease within his brow that showed he was in no mood for happiness and light-hearted times. There would be no soppy romance for them today.

Most of the other Hunters were up by the time Kieran and Mark joined them. Gwyn gave a solemn nod of acknowledgement to them that Kieran either did not see or did not reply to. It was a sign of disrespect to not to do so but Kieran was allowed leniency for such things, being the son of the Unseelie King. Others would have gotten a beating or some sort of discipline, but Gwyn only looked at them with confusion before turning his attention to one of the new servers of the Hunt who had asked him a question.

Still without saying a word to Mark, Kieran whistled and Windspear came running to him. Mark watched as he swung himself up onto his horse and did not offer his hand for Mark to join him. With a sigh, Mark whistled for his own steed and leapt atop him, watching Kieran whose hair had not changed its shade.

They began riding a little while later. Gwyn was leading the pack, searching and listening for whatever it was that he did. They were not riding at speed, it was at a gentle pace without much of a destination in mind. They would ride against the sky soon, the wind beneath the hooves of their steeds and nothing else.

It was something Mark had come to love. The wind of the Hunt, the excitement that coursed through him. Deep down, within his roots, the Hunt called to him, making him yearn to be a part of it. It was within his blood, the stars called his name.

With Kieran beside him, he always felt as though they could accomplish all. Occasionally they jested about their skill, Mark claiming he was better than Kieran and vice versa. Sometimes it was the only thing they could laugh about, considering the conditions they lived it. They liked their tricks and jokes, the fey, and this was the way it came out sometimes, especially for Mark who still, even this far in, did not want to fall completely to the fair folk’s ways.

Today, however, Kieran was in no mood for such jesting. He wasn’t riding directly beside Mark like he usually did, but a few steps ahead. Mark watched him, his body and hair bouncing as he rode, but he was not as relaxed as per usual, there was a level of stiffness to him.

Mark hated to see him in such a way. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, it hurt Mark’s heart. Sure, he loved his Kieran in every way, shape, and form, even when he was in one of his moods but he liked Kieran to be happy. Not for his own sake, by for Kieran’s. The Hunt was difficult enough, add sorrow to the mix and it was nearly impossible.

So Mark decided to cheer him up. That was no easy feat. He didn’t really know how to do so, he knew Kieran liked being kissed, he liked being fed sweet fruits, he liked bathing in the depths of the White Waters of the Heavens, and they were in no place to do any of those. But he loved his Kieran’s smile and he would fight for it.

Encouraging his horse to go faster, he made sure he rode directly next to Kieran. Kieran glanced at him when he saw he was beside him, but he did not change his expression. He didn’t speed himself up though, which Mark was thankful for.

He didn’t know what to do, he just wanted Kieran to be happier, he wanted to see that smile that illuminated his face and made his hair the magnificent colour of the ocean when it was serene without a wave to disturb it.

Controlling his steed by its mane, Mark pushed him a little closer to Kieran’s, steering Windspear off course and confusing Kieran. He looked at Mark, his eyes full of perplexity and annoyance.

“Have you forgotten how to ride?” Kieran asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was deeper in his current state of feeling.

Mark shook his head, flashing a smile at Kieran who was not effected at all by it.

“Then why do such a thing?” Kieran’s brow was deeply furrowed.

Mark shrugged, still smiling at Kieran who did not seem to notice Mark’s happier face. No one was particularly ecstatic during the Hunt, there were very few smiles for it was so tiring and relentless, but Mark had Kieran. With him, he could smile even when they were in their darkest of days.

Still confused and clearly irked, Kieran turned back to his riding, ignoring Mark. Mark sighed. Again, he veered his steed towards Windspear, pushing Kieran further off course. Kieran turned back to Mark again, quirking an eyebrow this time. Even Windspear looked around to see what was going on. The rest of the Hunt was oblivious.

“Why do you plague me so?” Kieran asked, not with a harsh tone, but with complete bafflement instead.

“I crave your smile.” Mark said.

“We smile not on the Hunt, my love.” Kieran said, releasing a breath. He looked away for a moment, observing their company.

Most of them looked exhausted. It had been a long while since Gwyn allowed people to drink or eat as they desired. It was tough on everyone but Gwyn was their leader and they abided by his rules. He may have been kinder than some of the other fey that were in power, but he was still fey; he still got a certain pleasure from other people’s suffering. It wasn’t much, he liked people to do well and feel well, but he was fey and that was the way they were.

“We ride until fatigue sets in our bones, we do not smile unless we rest at night with full stomachs and a lover by our side. I shan’t smile today. I am in no mood for it.”

“Please. I would beg on my knees if it would not slow us all down.” Mark said, chancing another smile at Kieran who was not looking at him to see it.

Kieran merely shook his head and continued to ride. He could see the hurt in Kieran’s eyes. On certain days, the idea that this Hunt was endless and its ways were cruel plagued one’s mind so much, the mere thought of happiness evaporated completely. Even though Kieran was having one of those days, Mark was trying his absolute best to make it seem better than it actually was. In his last attempt to make Kieran see the glory and not just the pain, he used his steed to canter around Windspear in wide circles.

At first, Kieran watched him as he rode round and around, his head turning to follow him. Windspear, who liked Mark, seemed bewildered as well. Some of the other Hunters looked over but they loathed Mark and Kieran enough to completely ignore whatever it was that they were doing.

Mark continued to ride in circles around Kieran and his steed. There was confusion in his eyes, but the brooding that had been set upon him since they had awoken had faded. When Kieran quirked his eyebrow again, Mark stopped and rode beside him at a slower pace.

“What?” Kieran asked, looking at Mark.

Mark shrugged. “What Kier?” He flashed a smile.

Kieran still seemed to ignore it, turning his attention back to the front but Mark could see his eyes were lighter than they had been. It was a hopeful sight so, knowing Kieran was in a slightly better mood even if it was just a smidge, Mark pushed his horse towards Windspear again, steering him off course yet another time.

Shaking his head, Kieran avoided looking at Mark. Perhaps he had forgotten that his hair was an indicator towards his current feeling for the ends started to flick to a lighter colour. It was slow, almost unnoticeable at first, but Mark noticed it.

Mark did it again and streaks of turquoise started to appear from the roots as well as the ends of his hair. Even though Kieran was hiding his face, Mark could sense that he was smiling. It warmed his heart.

Kieran lifted his head, his long and now pale hair revealing his face. As Mark had presumed, he was smiling his radiant smile. His eyes were light, full of beauty and delight. He was shaking his head at Mark but it was light heartedly for he couldn’t stop smiling anymore.

“What is it that you are doing exactly?” Kieran asked, looking at Mark with nothing but love in his eyes.

“Being jovial, that is all.” Mark said, winking at him.

“You got what you desired,” Kieran said, “Are you merrier now?”

“Nothing makes me happier than to see you looking as though you do not want to commit a serial crime Kier.” Mark said.

Kieran laughed, his laugh like a melody playing to Mark’s ears. He had heard a lot of exquisite sounds, especially in Faerie with their love for music and all things delightful, but nothing sounded as wonderful as Kieran’s laugh. Not to Mark.

They rode in joy for the rest of the time that they did ride. Gwyn was not letting them break even though many of them wished for a rest to eat and drink. Something had Gwyn set on the consistent moving horizon. Mountains and hills had risen up and disappeared in the blink of an eye. It was something Mark had grown accustom to.

Some of the sights, like the trees that rose up and touched the sky or the rivers that ran faster than anything Mark had ever seen, were too magnificent to even describe and he wished they would have lingered longer than they did. There were many things Mark had seen and forgotten because they had disappeared so quickly.

Kieran had shown him some things he would have missed if he was alone. Some of them lasted long enough for Mark to feel as though he could appreciate them and some of them were gone before Mark could even recognise they were there. Timing and mapping in Faerie was impossible, Mark did not spend his life trying to question it.

Gwyn had been pushing them hard, but there had been reason for his persistence. In the blink of an eye, a field that was the colour of carmine that was not the shade of blood appeared before them. It was strawberries, a field full of strawberries. At one time, Mark would have questioned it and how Gwyn knew how to get there, but Mark cared not. He just wanted to eat strawberries with his Kieran.

They were allowed to dismount and everyone did, going straight to gather the fruits and devour them as they wished. The field seemed to go on forever, for the entirety of Faerie despite the fact that that was very much impossible. Mark and Kieran, who was now in a much better mood, went to a far area of the field, walking through the waist high stems, until they could sit in the privacy they so desired.

Mark loved strawberries. He preferred them with sugar or some form of sustenance that made them sweeter than they already were, but he could deal with them without. Their sweet taste filled Mark’s mouth as he picked his first strawberry and he couldn’t help but moan a little. The fey ate a lot of sweet foods, it was their way, but Mark could never grow tired of their taste.

A possibility of hours passed, Mark and Kieran sitting together as they enjoyed either their silence or their delicate conversation. Never having felt so comfortable with someone else the way he felt with Kieran, Mark knew he could never love another like he loved him. Eating strawberries as they talked about the soirées of the Unseelie Court, Mark thought back to a time where he could have never imagined himself conversing so, let alone enjoying it. And yet here he was, watching Kieran talk with only love in his heart.

Taking what seemed like his millionth strawberry, Kieran leaned his hand over and waited for Mark to open his mouth. Kieran placed the small, red fruit on his tongue and smiled at him as he ate it, stem and all. Being fed by Kieran and his beautiful hands was one of Mark’s favourite activities, there were few things that came above that, making love to him was one of them.

As he licked his lips, Kieran grinned at him. “I do not understand your joviality today.” He said, watching Mark.

Once he had swallowed, Mark shrugged. “The Hunt is tiring enough without sorrow. If I have you, I cannot see reason to feel such despair.”

“You baffle me.” Kieran said, his hair now a calm blue.

“I see not why.” Mark said as he began playing with the leaves of the stems.

“I cannot always place my reason, but I know I feel it. It is in the same fashion in which I know I love you, I can sense it within my bones.” Kieran raised his hand and placed it against Mark’s neck. “Sometimes we do not understand the things we feel, but we know we feel them.”

“And I baffle you?” Mark said, looking at Kieran, both of their gazes soft and loving.

Kieran nodded. “You do.” He paused, searching Mark’s bicoloured eyes with his own. “Perhaps it is because I never did expect myself to love another as I love you. Never did I believe I would love someone more than there are stars in the sky.”

“You flatter me so.” Mark said but he could understand Kieran’s words. Mark had never expected to love someone so much his heart ached when he could not see him. That did not happen often for they lived on the Hunt, but when it did, Mark yearned for him to be near.

“I am yours, Kieran.” Mark said.

Kieran brushed his thumb against Mark’s jaw. “And I am yours.”

Leaning forward gently, Mark pressed his lips to Kieran’s in a gesture full of love. They were committed to each other, promised to the other in such a way that they could not love another. Mark knew, however, that he would never want someone else as long as he lived within the Hunt, which meant the rest of his life now.

There was once a time when he believed the Nephilim were coming for him, but he knew that was no longer the case. So, instead of holding onto a hope without future profit, Mark had given up on such thoughts. Hope may help people keep going, but false hope helped no one.

Now Mark had Kieran. _He_ was enough to keep him going. Love meant more to Mark than hope did. His love for Kieran, his desperation to be near him and with him, that meant more to him than the hope of returning to what he had once called home. Home now, to Mark, was Kieran and being with him and loving him and kissing him and holding him and having him and everything else he could do and have with him.

When they broke apart, Mark shuffled himself around so he sat with Kieran behind him, Kieran wrapping his arms around Mark as they fed each other strawberries. Kieran kept kissing Mark’s cheek or the tips of his pointed ears, sending shivers down Mark’s spine. This was where he was most comfortable, this was where he realised that love was all he needed to be happy.

And there they sat, in their field of strawberries. Soon enough, Gwyn would call them to the Hunt but, for now, they cared not for the other Hunters or what they would be doing in a few moments. They cared only for the now, for each other, and for their strawberries.

That was their love. That was his Kieran. That was Mark.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, can you tell I'm in love with Kieran? Because I am. I really, really am x


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